Accident is design / And design is accident / In a cloud of unknowing.

Art serves us best precisely at that point where it can shift our sense of what is possible, when we know more than we knew before, when we feel we have - by some manner of a leap - encountered the truth. That, by the logic of art, is always worth the pain.

If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent If the unheard, unspoken Word is unspoken, unheard; Still is the spoken word, the Word unheard, The Word without a word, the Word within The world and for the world; And the light shone in the darkness and Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled About the center of the silent Word. Oh my people, what have I done unto thee. Where shall the word be found, where shall the word Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?

The naming of cats is a difficult matter

He laughed like an irresponsible foetus.

We ask only to be reassured About the noises in the cellar And the window that should not have been open